


Post-Election Request Drabbles

by Caius



Series: Post-Election Request Drabbles [1]
Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers Animated (2007), Transformers: Beast Wars
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Ratings and Warnings vary by chapter, Request Drabbles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-08-30 14:49:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 7,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8537260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caius/pseuds/Caius
Summary: Various tumblr request drabbles, mostly happy and fluffy, sometimes porny. Heed individual chapter warnings, but expect a lot of hugging and sap overall. Series in progress and requests accepted until further notice.





	1. Cyclonus and Tailgate, SFW, trying to express feelings, for Mizushimo

> [mizushimo](http://mizushimo.tumblr.com/) asked: Feel free to ignore if you don't like this idea, but how about a hesitiant Cyclonus trying to express his feelings to tailgate without words, maybe a couple failed attempts before he succeeds? Maybe he has to use words in the end even though he's very bad at that sort of thing? Idk, I'd like fluff with Cy being a taciturn dork who is not great at the whole relationships thing.

“Good morning.”

Tailgate made an undignified squeak as the purple face came into focus above his berth. And then, as the familiar features registered: “Oh! Hi, Cyclonus.”

“I did not intend to startle you,” Cyclonus said. He extended his arm, a smile flickering at the edge of his mouth as his roommate used it to help himself up to a standing position, on top of the berth, where he could almost look straight into Cyclonus’ optics.

“Wazzup?” Tailgate asked. “New planet? New battle? New drink at Swerve’s?” He didn’t let go of Cyclonus’s arm. Cyclonus did not attempt to remove it.

Cyclonus’ optics dropped first. He turned aside slightly, picking up a cube from the shelf behind him. “I brought fuel.”

“With a curly straw! Cyclonus, you’re the best.” Tailgate dropped Cyclonus’ arm, leaving a quickly fading heat-trace behind, so he could take the cube in two hands.

The tip of the straw bounced off Tailgate’s faceplate in his eagerness. “Ah whoops…” Tailgate started to shift the cube to a single arm to manage the faceplate with the other.

“Let me.” Cyclonus paused for a second, fingertips just an inch from Tailgate’s faceplate and tingling with Tailgate’s energy field. “If I may?”

“Of course!” Tailgate giggled and tipped his face back. Cyclonus’ claws gently detached the faceplate and pulled it away. His optics lingered over the soft-looking metal beneath, but he did not allow himself to touch.

The cube was halfway empty before Cyclonus realized he had been staring the whole time. He put down the faceplate and looked down, instead. Down at…the rest of Tailgate. He was considering looking away entirely when he realized Tailgate had stopped drinking.

“Cyclonus?” The cube wasn’t empty yet. Tailgate was looking at Cyclonus rather than finishing it. “Is there something – I mean, is this for a special occasion or, um, something you wanted to tell me maybe?”

“You should finish your fuel,” Cyclonus said. There was a pause, where Cyclonus said nothing and Tailgate didn’t drink. “There’ll be more tomorrow. You don’t have to save it.”

“Okay,” Tailgate said, and he looked sad and Cyclonus wished he knew how to fix it. Tailgate obediently emptied the cube, still looking up at Cyclonus with his big blue-white visor.

And at last: “There,” Tailgate said, presenting Cyclonus the empty cube. “All done.”

Cyclonus smiled and put the cube down. “It’s important that you’re fully fueled. To me, I mean.”

When Cyclonus reached over to reattach his faceplate, Tailgate grabbed his shoulders and jumped off the bed, forcing Cyclonus to use his other arm to pick the minibot up rather than let him dangle or fall. “I love you too.”


	2. "Spy vs Spy," Shockwave and Blurr, SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [copperzealot](http://caiusmajor.tumblr.com/post/152968841386/if-youre-still-up-for-it-post-finale-tfa) asked: "If you're still up for it, post-finale TFA Shockwave/Blurr interactions? Maybe Blurr finds out Shockwave is stuck in prison with the other Cons and goes to talk to him, either out of anger or curiosity? I guess I'm asking for something cathartic between them. Please and thanks."
> 
> Safe for work; ambiguous relationship; spoilers for TFA. Sad but hopeful-ish.

Trypticon had a visitor. Shockwave waited in his cell, listening to the sound of footsteps, quicker and harder than the minicon guard, punctuated by bursts of insults and catcalls as the visitor passed occupied cells.

It was a little blue 65356-9292-346, probably fresh off the assembly line judging from the lack of any individual modifications. Shockwave’s optic arched in bemusement: why was a rookie allowed into the depths of Trypticon Prison?

“Don’t you recognize your old Agent, Shockwave or should I say Longarm Prime? Though you don’t have the face I remember either, except at the very end that is.” The vocalizer moved slightly slower than Shockwave remembered, but the speech patterns were unmistakable.

“Agent Blurr.” Shockwave’s optic flickered and he took a long slow look over his agent’s new body. Blurr’s speed matrix had been lost when Shockwave disposed of him; or at any rate, Blurr and his new commanders wished Shockwave to think it had been. The generic body twitched and fidgeted the way Blurr’s had done – but slower. “It’s not a good look.”

Blurr laughed bitterly. It echoed hollowly through the halls of Trypticon. “I could say the same thing for *yours*, Decepticon Shockwave, ‘sir,’ I suppose we know now why you always had such a good poker face, it was only just a mask. Doesn’t seem you’d play so well without it, not with the way that optic of yours moves around. And I never did like purple. And furthermore, you’re the only reason I’m in this frame in the first place! Or are you going to claim you didn’t crush my old body now?”

Shockwave shrugged, the movement rippling through his long, long body. “I did not choose this frame to please you. What do you want, Agent Blurr?”

“Well, even as unfortunately large and ugly as your current form is, ‘behind bars’ is a very good look for you and the rest of your Decepticon cronies. And, of course the joys of rubbing in your face your failure not just in putting your evil leader Megatron in charge of Cybertron but even in putting one single agent permanently offline!” Blurr strode back and forth in front of the cage; everything about him just as it had been – but at normal speed, now.

Shockwave laughed. “It must be very frustrating to you.”

“To me? May I point out, Shockwave sir, that you’re the one –”

Shockwave cut in. “To be so slow. I never could have interrupted you, before. We’re both of us in cages.”

Blurr glared and raised his fists at him, which might barely have missed being comical had Blurr been in his previous form, but that now he was shorter and rounder it was hilarious. “Are you gloating now, Shockwave? Taunting me for losing my speed matrix when you’ve lost your freedom and your planet?”

Shockwave kept himself from laughing; he shrugged instead. “I take the pleasures I can. Now, what do you want? I doubt you came all the way here like in that frame simply to gloat or to speak to an old friend.”

“All business now, Shockwave? If you insist. As you know, you left a bit of a mess for your successor in Autobot Intelligence. I need the codes to repair what you’ve done, Longarm. And since I know you’re not going to give them to me out of the nonexistent goodness of your spark, I’m willing to trade for them.”

“Trade what, Autobot?” Shockwave drew himself back up, as much as he could in his cage and bonds. “Freedom for my Lord Megatron? The planet of Cybertron itself?”

Blurr flinched back a little; the demotion to 'Autobot’ stung more than he expected. “Of-course not, Shockwave, don’t be ridiculous. Food, privileges, company…perhaps even parole if you give us enough to restore the damage.

Shockwave laughed.

Blurr waited – for a second or two. “Well, Shockwave, is that a 'yes’ or a 'no’? I need an answer for my report.”

“Company,” Shockwave said, at last. “Come back with that poker game, and perhaps you can win something from me.”

Blurr’s new mouth twisted into a smile. Longarm – Shockwave – himself had been the one to teach him: get a prisoner talking, thinking of you as as a friendly presence, and he’ll start slipping. “I’m sure that I will win many things, Decepticon Shockwave. I will see you tomorrow.”

“I look forward to it,” Shockwave said, and as he watched Blurr depart – in his slow-motion way – he knew it was true. It was going to be an entertaining game.


	3. "Best Pillow Fort," Bumblebee and Daniel Witwicky, fluffy fluffy gen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [sumkitty](http://sumkitty.tumblr.com/) asked for something fluffy with Bumblebee. 
> 
> G1 between Seasons 2 and 3, Bumblebee, Daniel Witwicky, and a pillow fort. 100% fluff.

“Bee, bee!” The little boy rushed across the Autobot base, a pillow and blanket dragging behind him.

“What is it, Danny?” Bumblebee knelt down to catch the Witwicky boy gently in his hands. It seemed he was bigger than he was just yesterday – human children were amazing!

“Transform! I wanna make a pillow fort.” Danny wiggled out of Bumblebee’s hands and pulled his bedding out in front of him.

“Pillow fort?” Bee looked at the pillow and blanket They were covered with dust and dirt from being dragged; Bee knew he’d have to try to put them in the wash before they went back on Danny’s bed. But it was a long way until bedtime now. “How’d you make a pillow fort? Does it protect you from Decepticons?”

Danny giggled. “I dunno if it does, it’s a human thing! It’s to be cosy in. You get pillow and a blanket and cushions and things and then you hide there. I wanna make one in you.”

“In me?” Bumblebee looked dubious. “But…what if I want to be in the pillow fort with you?”

Danny considered this. “…I don’t have enough pillows and blankets for a Bee-sized pillow fort.” He frowned. “I was gonna use your seat cushions for the rest.”

“We can get more! I got some big enough for Optimus!” Bee did; they were a popular gift from human businesses and craft groups.

“Optimus?” Danny’s eyes went wide. “Bee! We can make a fort in Optimus!”

“I dunno if Optimus would like that, Danny. We can use a corner in the living room maybe?”

“I think Optimus wouldn’t mind at all,” said a deeper voice from behind Bumblebee.

“Really?” Danny jumped up and down. “Awesome! Best fort! Thank you!”

“Yes, thanks, Optimus,” Bee said, turning around sheepishly. “We’ll, uh, get the blankets and pillows.”

“I’ve got some cookies for when you get back!” Optimus settled into his vehicle mode and lowered the trailer door below.

“BE RIGHT BACK! C'mon Bee!” Danny rushed off, followed more carefully by Bee.

Ten minutes later, Optimus’ trailer was full of pillows, blankets, cookie crumbs, and a very snug human and minibot. “Best pillow fort,” Danny declared for around the tenth time, then fell asleep in a pile of pillows on Bee’s lap.

“Yes,” Bee agreed softly. He tucked the boy in and reached through the pillows to touch the side of the trailer. “Thanks.”

“No,” Optimus replied, below human hearing. “Thank you.”


	4. Arcee/Knock Out, post-series, NSFW, sticky.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It started as a challenge. 
> 
> A bit of post-series TFP Arcee/Knock Out, for [noveltealeaves](http://noveltealeaves.tumblr.com) who asked over Tumblr messenger. NSFW, sticky.

It had started out as a challenge. Just a bored and horny Knock Out, showing himself out to best advantage leaning against a medical berth: “Where _can_ a bot get a good spiking around here?”

Arcee, looking him over speculatively: “You got a valve that needs it?”

Knock Out, looking her over condescendingly: “From a two-wheeler? I’m not that desperate. It takes a BIG bot to fill me up and you just don’t have the girth or the horsepower.”

Arcee snorted. “I’ve pounded bigger bots than you into jelly. On the battlefield and in the berth. What, you didn’t think Cliffjumper was the top, did you?”

Knock Out cocked his helm and looked at her more closely, optics lingering on her crotch with professional attention. “Hmmm…there might be something in there. Might.” He slid up to a half-sitting position on the berth. “Show me.”

Arcee rolled her optics. “You’re lucky I _am_ that desperate. You know this is gonna scratch your paint, right?”

Knock Out sighed theatrically. “And a good buffing and repaint afterwards would be too much to ask, I know. Show me what you got.”

“It’s more than just the size of the spike…” As she spoke, Arcee moved fast, jumping up onto the berth to straddle Knock Out’s thighs, pushing him down and up onto the berth so she could loom over him.

Knock Out’s engine purred, even though he knew he was getting scuffed and marked, and purred even more when he felt her spike press up against his abdominal plates. “You – might be adequate, yes.”

Arcee snorted. “Maybe I should make you suck it first. Shut you up for a little.”

Knock Out pouted fetchingly and spread his legs a bit to show off his valve better when he opened it. Red biolights pulsed invitingly, outlining the small slick hole. “C'mon. You know you want it – no Autobot or Decepticon has a better valve than I do. I’ve made sure of it.”

“Oh, shut up.” Arcee rearranged them deftly so he was spread wide over her lap, one hand holding his thigh, the other exploring the valve rim, rubbing the biolights and dipping shallowly into the opening.

Knock Out groaned. “I’ll be happy to let you spend hours giving my valve the worship it deserves – later! Right now, I need a spike, and believe me, I can take what you’ve got.”

“I should probably make you beg for it…but then I’d have to listen to you that whole time.” Arcee shifted them again, easily lifting both of Knock Out’s thighs, folding him in half before lining them up. She’d had a lot of experience making the best of what she had with bigger mechs. “Here it comes.”

“…Ahh, yeah…” Knock Out sighed with pleasure as Arcee slid in to the hilt. “Not as big as I’m used to…but slag it’s been too long.”

Arcee snorted. “And it’s not the best valve I’ve taken, either. Shuttup and take it.” She pulled back slowly, still taking the measure of the new valve.

“How dare you! Ah…yeah, like that, mmm….” Knock Out sprawled himself out fetchingly under Arcee. “So very…adequate, yesss…”

Arcee grunted and adjusted her angle slightly. “You won’t be able to do anything except beg for more by the time I’m done.”

“Mmm, promises…yeah, there!” Knock Out clenched his valve around Arcee’s spike, enjoying the way her thrusts faltered for a moment…and then she just gripped his thighs tighter and pounded him harder.

Knock Out was going to be scuffed and dented after this, but it was so worth it. Anyway, it’d been far too long since he’d covered in blue paint transfers.


	5. "Please?" Rodimus/Galvatron, begging, SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [scribeprotra](http://scribeprotra.tumblr.com/) asked for Rodimus/Galvatron with begging.
> 
> This turned out maybe a bit more seduction than begging: Rodimus is good at what he does. Set in a vague G1 future / AU where Rodimus and Galvatron are on good enough terms to be having regular makeout sessions.
> 
> Not strictly nsfw but a lot of makeouts, biting, weapons kink, and a fade-to-black sex scene.

“No.”

Rodimus twisted a bit to look at Galvatron’s face from where he was perched on his former nemesis’ lap. He was getting better at figuring out when “no” from Galvatron meant “no” and when it meant “beg.” 

Rodimus was still on Galvatron’s lap, and Galvatron’s left hand still held firm between his spoiler and aft. Beg, then, probably. He put on his best puppy dog optics and leaned in toward Galvatron, his throat bared and his hand light and reverent on Galvatron’s cannon. “Please?” 

Galvatron didn’t bother to answer, at least not verbally. He attacked Rodimus’ offered neck instead, licking and nibbling until the metal was covered in dents and Rodimus was moaning his name. 

It wasn’t enough to make Rodimus forget, though. When Galvatron pulled back to assess his work and found it good, giving one final nip as signature, Rodimus beamed at him innocently and said, “So may I fire your cannon? ” 

“I do not need anyone else to fire my cannon. In this mode, or the other.” Galvatron took Rodimus’ lips for a moment, forestalling any response. 

“Of course,” Rodimus breathed into Galvatron’s mouth. He paused to appreciate a bite to his lower lip. “But it’s such an amazing cannon. The most powerful in the universe. I want to feel that power–your power!–it would make me so hot for you.” 

“You’re already hot for me,” Galvatron said, but his engine rumbled indulgently and he pressed his cannon into Rodimus’ touch. 

“I’d be even hotter,” Rodimus kissed Galvatron now, long and sweet and Galvatron didn’t deny him when he caressed the trigger on his arm. 

Rodimus then pulled back just enough to speak, and resisted quite strongly Galvatron’s attempt to pulls his lips back in. “Please?” 

Galvatron snatched Rodimus into his arms as he threw himself off the throne and out into the barren plains of Chaar. Rodimus beamed and held on tight. 

“Here.” Galvatron let Rodimus down to stand before him, his cannon arm in front of the Prime, clutching at Rodimus’ hips with burning, trembling thighs as he guided Rodimus’ hand toward his trigger with his only free  hand. “It is a shame we have no one for you to fire on.” 

“Thank you,” Rodimus said. He pressed a kiss to the nearest bit of Galvatron–a bit of his upper arm–then pulled Galvatron’s trigger. 

It was as hot as Rodimus imagined, literally and figuratively - galvanic energy built through the giant body behind him, focused into his arm and cannon, then roared out in a flash that obliterated a pile of stones in front of when and knocked Rodimus back into Galvatron’s burning hot body. “Wow.”

“Yes,” Galvatron said. 

Rodimus barely had time to twist his head back to meet Galvatron’s lips before he was pressed down to the ground, hot and hot willing beneath his amorous warlord.


	6. Blot and First Aid being cute. SFW.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [semianonymity](http://semianonymity.tumblr.com/) asked for Blot and First Aid, being cute. 
> 
> Here they are being cute, and a little sad, because of Blot's situation. Gen comfort with a few sexual references.

“Why you coming here, little bot?” Blot cocked his head at Autobot that was, for some reason, still approaching him. “You can’t smell or something?”

“I’m a medic.” The little bot spread his hands open, showing that he was foolish enough to be unarmed as well as apparently without any sort of chemosensors. “The Technobots told me you were sick and I thought maybe I’d help, if you’d let me.”

“Help me?” Blot laughed, rotten fluids spurting out from his plating as it shook. “You’re an Autobot. G'way or I’ll ooze on you.”

“That’s okay. I’m a medic,” First Aid kept on approaching; he was now closer than anyone not on Blot’s team would willingly go. “Can’t help you out without getting a little dirty.”

“What is your malfunction? Is this a kinky sex thing because if so I’m topping.” Blot flicked his tail in First Aid’s direction, covering him in a burst of ooze. “There. Now go away.”

First Aid didn’t. He scraped away a bit of ooze from his optic with his finger instead and tucked it into a little bag he’d pulled from his subspace. “I can do an analysis later, but I think it might be treatable.”

“…What’s WRONG with you?” Blot flipped up to his mech mode, sending another burst of ooze in First Aid’s direction. First Aid flinched back a little from the force, but kept coming forward. “No one wants to be near me, especially not little Autobots like you. I’ll dissolve you and eat you up.”

“I’m a medic.” First Aid said, as though that explained anything at all.

“The slag’s that got to do with anything?” Blot growled. “The Constructicons don’t let me near them.”

“Oh. Blot, I didn’t realize – you’ve never seen a real medic, have you?” First Aid finally seemed to be expressing an appropriate level of horror, although Blot didn’t know why that was the thing that upset the Autobot. Weird Autobot.

“What’s it to you?” Blot asked, and then, as the Autobot’s visor started dripping, “You should go ‘way. Fumes are getting to you.”

“No, I–” First Aid looked up at Blot, and the sad look on his face made Blot feel a bit queasy inside, as though the fumes were getting to him, too. “Can I–?” He opened his arms and moved even closer.

“If you really want…” Blot said dubiously. He didn’t know if it was an attack or what, but he didn’t want to make the Autobot feel even worse, somehow. Or to make him go away, either, really.

He wasn’t expecting the Autobot to cling to him, chest pressed firmly deep into Blot’s goo, arms wrapped around him as though he was trying to merge or something, except that they were both arms so they couldn’t do that.

“What?” Blot asked, and when the Autobot still looked sad at him, he wrapped his arms carefully around First Aid, too, getting even more of the goo on him.

Maybe it was a weird sex thing, or a weird attack, but when First Aid shifted in Blot’s arms to get even closer and press even more of his warm Autobot body against Blot’s, Blot figured he was up for whatever it was.

It would be better if the Autobot would stop doing the sad thing with his face that was making Blot feel queasy, though. “It’ll be okay,” Blot tried. “It won’t melt you, not really. Bots just think that.”

First Aid smiled and gave a little laugh, though his optical band was still dripping a bit. Maybe he had a fluid problem, too. “I know,” he said, and kept on holding on.


	7. TFA Blurrceptor, non-explicit 'facing for science

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Technoxenoholic](http://technoxenoholic.tumblr.com/) asked for "fluffy G1 or TFA Blurrceptor being sweethearts". I went with TFA for extra sciencey weirdness. Non-explicit 'facing for SCIENCE.

“Lay still.” Perceptor commanded. “We are supposed to be performing an examination of your Sigma ability.”

Blurr snorted. “My Sigma ability is speed you can hardly perform much of an examination on it when I stay still and anyway you know your ‘I use a vocal voice synthesizer, I have no emotions’ act doesn’t fool me I know why you called me here.”

“I have no conception of what you are speaking,” Perceptor said, deadpan. “I called you to the laboratory for a scientific investigation into your spark’s resonance with a dimensional fold that my esteemed colleague labeled the 'speed force’. Will you be still, or will it be necessary to restrain you?”

“I love it when you get kinky Perceptor but I don’t want to be restrained today, I see you have all your scanners on now get on the slab with me and and we’ll do the 'science’, c'mon I know how much you like the data you get when I’m all heated up and writhing under you…” Blurr scooted to the edge of the table and reached out for Perceptor, sliding his hands under his shoulder kibble to caress the softer plating inside, while his toe tips slid over the dials at Perceptor’s knees.

Perceptor’s engine rumbled in response to the warm vibrations of Blurr’s touch. “The manner in which you –” the synthesizer paused for a moment as Perceptor lifted his hands to Blurr’s waist, holding on. “Transmit your spark heat to adjacent, compatible mechanisms does indeed merit considerable study.”

“Yes, yes, lots of study,” Blurr agreed, wrapping his arms and legs around his lover as he hoisted them fully around the berth. “You do have all the scanners set up right, because I’m going to be on another mission way too soon and I don’t want you getting bored while I’m gone?”

“Of course they are set up,” Perceptor insisted. “Move us .023 mechanometers to the left, and 0.014 upward for a better scan.”

“Of course,” Blurr said, making the necessary adjustments with a speed and precision that went straight to Perceptor’s spark – or perhaps it was the way the tip of Blurr’s pede was rubbing against Perceptor’s aft.

Perceptor shunted the analytical subroutine aside. There would sufficient time to analyze data at a future time time, when it would not contaminate the current experiment – nor interfere with sensory data accumulation.

He pressed his mouth against Blurr’s and for half a megacycle, there was nothing but warmth and pressure.

It took him until his second data analysis pass to realize that some of those pleasurable vibrations had been Blurr saying “I love you.”


	8. Dratchet kissing drabble, SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "could you do a Dratchet kissing drabble? maybe first kiss?" 
> 
> I went for a first kiss and a second, so as to end on a happier note. SFW, kissing and sap.

The first kiss was sloppy and desperate, Drift’s frame cold and trembling, his mouth warm and sweet and hungry. Ratchet let it go on for five long microseconds, or about six microseconds longer than it should have.

“No, Drift.” Ratchet pushed his patient away, then cursed himself and grabbed him to keep the unsteady frame from falling over altogether.

Drift’s face fell, lubricant that he could ill-afford to lose building up in the corner of his optic and dripping from his lips. "I can’t pay you anything else. It’s all I have.” 

Ratchet clenched his hands a bit too hard on Drift’s shoulders as he fought the urge to wipe away the tears. He couldn’t let these bots get to him like this, not and survive the Dead End.

He set the bot on his feet, gave him a cube and made sure he drank it, then sent him back whence he came. Just one more lost bot in the Dead End, better forgotten.

 

But he didn’t forget: not about the bot or the kiss. The kiss came back to him, now and then over the years, at the edge of sleep or the edge of despair, the fierce hunger of a bot he assumed was long-dead, the sweet temptation of corruption and entanglement.

The second kiss was also desperate, although Ratchet liked to think not quite as sloppy. Ratchet was the one who clung, now, holding the still-fragile body tight against his. “I found you,” Ratchet said, when he forced himself to pull back. They weren’t that far from the Galactic Council outpost, and once again, Drift required significant repairs.

Drift’s optics and lips beaded with moisture now, too, but Drift didn’t push Ratchet away. “You feel just as good as you did in my dreams,” Drift informed him, and before Ratchet could scoff, he kissed back, slow and soft and seasoned with drops of optical lubricant that may not all have been from Drift.


	9. Break time, Drift/Perceptor sfw fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back, with a bit of Perceptor/Drift comfort fic for [Ravynfyre.](http://ravynfyre.tumblr.com/) Set between Spotlight: Drift and All Hail Megatron. Perceptor is overworking and overcompensating; Drift helps.

"Perceptor." Drift stood at the door of the firing range -- had been standing, Perceptor realized, reviewing his sensory data, for .43 of a breem. 

Perceptor repressed the instinctual flinch. Drift was not an enemy, not anymore, and if his sensory processors still regarded him as such, he would never get anything done. 

"Drift." Perceptor acknowledged, allowing himself to glance in the bot's direction as he reviewed his firing data. 

"It's time for a break." Drift kept himself just barely outside the bounds of the firing range: the other reason Perceptor's vigilance subroutines had allowed him to ignore him for so long. Drift understood boundaries, far better than any of the Autobots did. 

Perceptor allowed himself to ignore Drift again, pulling the results of his latest test and starting the 342nd recalibration of this cycle.

"You're not getting better," Drift said, and Perceptor probably wouldn't have heard him except that he was right: the data pointed clearly to a pattern of diminishing returns. Performance for the cycle had peaked 31 trials ago, and was starting to plummet. 

He kept working, still. There was no stop point in his processor, only the gradual diminution of concentration that let Drift come into his consciousness in the first place. 

Drift cycled his vents once, slow and careful and considerate, lifted one foot, then put it down with a definitive clang just inside Perceptor's firing range perimeter. 

The firing range flickered and vanished; Perceptor whirled to face him Drift, rifle half-disassembled, more resigned than angry. "No," he agreed. "I'm not." 

Drift waited, still mostly in the doorway. "Still an improvement on last cycle." His voice was carefully blank, a statement of fact; pity would only make things worse.

"I know." Perceptor said. He turned away, filing his results and stowing his rifle. 

Drift waited for a long, practiced moment, watching the tension in Perceptor's back and arms subside slowly; choosing his moment to carefully, noisily, enter the room. 

"I have your cube," Drift said. 

Perceptor didn't turn around, trusting Drift to approach all the way and wrap his arms around him from behind. "Thank you." His body relaxed a bit more, leaning back into Drift's warmth as he pressed the cube into Perceptor's hand. 

Perceptor fueled quickly, for a moment forgetting even the bot who clung to his back; he had been close to empty. 

"Come to berth with me?" Drift asked, once Perceptor had drained and dispersed his cube. He nuzzled into Perceptor's shoulder, pressing gently against the strained cables beneath.

"If you will relieve the stress on my dorsal stays." Perceptor shifted uncomfortably: the warm touch was waking up error messages all over his body, reminding him of the unhealthy strain of the past cycle. 

Drift pulled back, but not before letting Perceptor feel his smile. "Of course. One back rub coming up...and more, if you'd like. As soon as we get you to berth." 

"I think that I might enjoy 'more,'" Perceptor turned to look Drift over; the bot's carefully nonthreatening pose softened as he watched. He took Drift's hands in his own, rubbing them to feel the tight cables relax into his own grip. 

"...Not going to let you stay in the lab tonight," Drift's hands tightened again, pulling Perceptor's back to him. "Berth, Perceptor. Please?"

"As you wish." Perceptor pulled away to settle the last of the his equipment for the night; then he took Drift's hand, and let himself be led.


	10. "Lucky," Mirage/Cliffjumper, NSFW, stilly sicky porn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [hellmaster-bean](http://hellmaster-bean.tumblr.com/) asked for "some cute G1 MirgagexCliffjumper. Porn would be great." 
> 
> ....These bots are ridiculous assholes but they were great fun to write. Warning for sticky porn, play fighting, lots of insults, and the general ridiculousness that is G1 Mirage/Cliffjumper.

"HEY! Gonna getcha, ya invisible aft-grabbing traitor you!" Cliffjumper whirled, audials twitching after the giggles from empty air. "Slag you, not the horns -- ahah!" He twisted and grabbed hold of thin air -- which wiggled out of his grip. "Gonna getcha, Mirage, gonna make you pay!"

"Looking forward to it," the voice was behind him this time, and fingers ghosted over Cliffjumper's crotch.

"That's not fair, Mirage...!" Cliffjumper's foot sweep clattered satisfyingly against metal, but wasn't enough to knock the mech down.

"And you love me for it!" Phantom lips pressed against Cliffjumper's helm, but Mirage had gotten too close this time -- Cliffjumper grabbed him around the waist and held firm as they both fell to the ground.

"Gotcha!" Cliffjumper whooped, grappling the slippery racecar with both arms and legs as he rolled them over on the ground, trying to pin his prey. 

"Mmm, what're you gonna do with me now?" Invisible limbs gave up the pretense of struggle. A leg teased up between Cliffjumper's thighs; one hand gave his aft a firm grope and the other pulled his helm down into a thorough kiss. 

Cliffjumper growled into Mirage's mouth and nibbled at his lips, aggression not quite placated. "Now you're not even _trying_."

Mirage pulled Cliffjumper's lower lip back into his mouth and bit it firmly. He rubbed his hip firmly against Cliffjumper's panel, holding it close with a firm hand on his aft. "Better?" he said, as he teased fingertips over the bottom edge of Cliffjumper's panel and felt it pop open to his touch.

"It's an -- ah! -- start." Cliffjumper ground onto Mirage, lubricants outlining his hips and abdomen. "Oh!" He groaned, as invisible fingers pushed his valve mesh aside, spreading him open. He shoved one black hand between the two of them, finding the panel he needed by touch and memory. "Open up, I wanna ride ya." 

Mirage gave an exaggerated sigh. "You just can't ask politely, can you?"

Cliffjumper could hear the pout in the voice, so he leaned down and nibbled it happily. "Can. Won't. Open up." 

"You're lucky you're cute," Mirage said with a long-suffering sigh as he let his spike come out into Cliffjumper's hand. 

Cliffjumper growled. " _Yer_ lucky ya got such a nice spike." Cliffjumper leaned up just enough to sit down on said spike, taking it all the way with a little grunt of pleasure. 

"Ahh, Cliffjumper..." Mirage pulled his hand out of Cliffjumper's valve just in time, moving it back to rest wetly on Cliffjumper's aft instead. "You say the _rudest_ things." 

"And ya love it. Ah, yeah, that's the stuff--!" Cliffjumper rode him roughly, pausing every two or three quick thrusts to grind back and forth, Mirage's spike nestled deep inside. 

Mirage lay back and enjoyed the ride. Cliffjumper was so hot like this, dripping lubricant and steaming off coolant, his valve spread open over Mirage's invisible spike, cute little crimson spike flapping in the air in between grinding on Mirage's abdomen. 

"Ah, Primus, Cliffjumper..." Mirage sighed, as he felt the valve start to clench around him. Cliffjumper drove down one final time, almost the minibot's full weight coming down onto his hips, optics gazing into the nothingness that was Mirage's face, valve and hips clenching and spike twitching against and above and around him as he got himself off. 

It was beautiful, it was amazing, it was..."Mirage--" Cliffjumper growled, and the first spurt of silvery transfluid landed on Mirage's belly. 

"Cliffjumper!" Mirage said, his invisible face giving no sign of his wide-opticked innocent expression. "You're so -- so _cute_!"

Cliffjumper squawked in indignation halfway through his overload and Mirage burst over with laughter.

"Not _funny_ , Mirage!" Cliffjumper said, but his pout wasn't entirely sincere, and his valve was still vibrating in pleasant aftershocks. 

Mirage was still giggling. "It's true, though. You are absolutely adorable." He reached up to rub Cliffjumper's little pout with a fingertip. 

Cliffjumper bit it. Mirage giggled. Cliffjumper glared down at him and pulled it inside, giving it a long slow suck while he slid sensually up and down Mirage's still hard spike. 

Mirage didn't giggle, not even when Cliffjumper smirked around his finger, which was even more adorable than his little pouts. He arched up and moaned instead, everything driven out of his processor except for the tight heat around his spike and his finger. 

Cliffjumper pulled another finger into his mouth. His lips were stretched wide, giving Mirage a view through his invisible fingers to his busy tongue and halfway down his throat. 

Somewhere back in his mind, Mirage knew Cliffjumper had to be planning revenge, but he didn't care enough to pull processing power away from enjoying Cliffjumper's perfect holes. "Love your valve, yeah, like that, suck me..."

Strong hands moved down to Mirage's hips, holding him firmly as Cliffjumper rode him just right until finally - "Aaa!" 

Mirage thrust up helplessly into thin air, his poor spike just a gleaming wet outline straining up into the air as Cliffjumper spat out his fingers and laughed at him. 

"You're evil. An cute little servant of Unicron, Cliffjumper." Mirage pouted and squirmed in Cliffjumper's grip. 

Cliffjumper smirked. It was still cute. "I'm an avatar of _justice, _you little traitor. And not at all adorable."__

__Mirage sighed. "If you insist, my big strong Autobot warrior." He raised his arms to Cliffjumper's back, lovely stroking the strong body from his slick aft to the tips of his horns._ _

__Cliffjumper's engine purred and he leaned into the touch and it was too bad that pointing out how cute he was in that moment would kill any chance Mirage had of getting off that megacycle._ _

__If he hadn't already. "Don't even think it," Cliffjumper growled, glaring into the general area of Mirage's invisible face. "In fact - turn that stupid thing off. I wanna see ya when I make ya beg for it."_ _

__Mirage snorted. "You're not going to be seeing that anytime soon." But he came back into view in all his glory, stretching out and posing to best advantage, smirking as Cliffjumper's mouth dropped open slightly, his optics wide, his fingers loosening and pawing at the streaks of black and red on Mirage's hips._ _

__"Like what you see?" Mirage put his hand back up to Cliffjumper's mouth, emphasizing his gaping face. "Who's begging for it now?"_ _

__Cliffjumper swallowed. "I'm ain't gonna be begging. Ya know why not? 'Cause it's all mine." He opened his mouth and gave Mirage's finger a big, sloppy kiss, staring into Mirage's optics the whole time. Mirage moaned prettily._ _

__"All mine," Cliffjumper repeated, pulling his mouth away from the finger and moving down Mirage's body, devouring it with its optics. He moved his hands from Mirage's hips to between his thighs and yanked them up and open, spreading Mirage's legs up and open and gazing at his thick spike and wet open valve. "Yer too sexy to be invisible so often."_ _

__Cliffjumper leaned down and pressed a sloppy open-mouthed kiss to the tip of Mirage's spike, pulling the tip into his mouth and licking the dripping slit at the very end. Mirage arched his back in appreciation, giving Cliffjumper as much as he would take (and he knew that big mouth could take it all if he wanted), but Cliffjumper pulled back instead. "So messy," Cliffjumper smirked, licking a stripe up the mess on the front of Mirage's spike. "I like you like this. Not hiding like a coward and a traitor. Out in the open and covered in red paint and Autobot fluids like a proper bot."_ _

__Mirage twitched and strained, dripping more fluids at the insults and the heat of Cliffjumper's gaze. "Just get me off you -- you irascible zealot!"_ _

__Cliffjumper smirked. "Ya gonna ask nicely?"_ _

__Mirage seriously considered it...for a second or so. "No. I'm not."_ _

__"That's my bot." Cliffjumper's hand slid off Mirage's hip -- Mirage kept it spread high and wide, he liked the way Cliffjumper looked at him when he was on display -- to finger his valve instead. Cliffjumper was just as quick and rough with Mirage's valve as he was with his own -- a few swipes over the rim to pick up lubricant, then he was pushing fingers in as fast as Mirage could take them, jabbing at his nodes rough and wild._ _

__Mirage loved it. Too many bots thought he was as delicate as the crystal towers of his home, forgetting how long he'd outlasted them. Not Cliffjumper. Cliffjumper was going to give him as much as he could take, and more, and smirk at him, and never apologize for it. Mirage grabbed his own thigh before he lost control, holding himself up and spread as he grunted and moaned his way toward his overload._ _

__When it was almost too much, but still not enough, he grabbed for his spike with his other hand, but Cliffjumper was there first, head butting him away and pushing him over with a rough suck on his spike head and a three-fingered jab deep into his valve._ _

__Mirage came down, slowly, sticky and sore and covered in dents and deeply, deeply, satisfied. Cliffjumper was sitting between his legs, grinning and licking his fingers in triumph._ _

__Mirage couldn't help himself. "You're _adorable_ when you're victorious."_ _

__Cliffjumper growled. "You're sleeping on the floor."_ _

__"We don't even share quarters." Mirage stretched out comfortably, resting his thighs in Cliffjumper's lap._ _

__Cliffjumper groaned and started rubbing the thighs. "We're moving in together just so I can make you sleep on the floor."_ _

__"You're such a romantic." Mirage dimmed his optics flirtatiously. He could sleep just fine on this floor right here, actually. Especially if Cliffjumper kept rubbing his thighs like that._ _

__Cliffjumper groaned. "You're lucky you're so hot."_ _

__"You're lucky you're so..." Mirage paused dramatically. "Strong and handsome."_ _

__Cliffjumper snorted. "Floor. Always." He brushed a quick kiss over Mirage's calf and kept on rubbing._ _


	11. Whirl/Swerve, pet play, vehicle mode, non-sexual and sfw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life stuff got in the way of writing these for awhile, but it seems thematically appropriate to resume fic request fills today.
> 
> This is some sfw non-sexual vehicle-mode-as-pet play between Whirl and Swerve, for anonymous on Tumblr. Definitely consensual and generally enthusiastic, though these are not especially mentally healthy bots. Vague MTMTE canon.

"Hello, hello!" Whirl caught the minicar in his arms as Swerve tried to drive up the underside of his cockpit. He held the little car between arm and cockpit as he made sure the door to Swerve's hab closed and locked behind them. "So eager, that's my good bot..." Whirl lowered them to the ground, gently settling Swerve down on his tires so he could get a better look at him. "Good bot," he repeated, as Swerve revved happily, nuzzling his alt close against Whirl where he sat. 

Whirl settled in next to him, leaning close to give the car a hug, as best he could with his cockpit and guns in the way. Swerve bounced happily on his tires, pleased by the attention even when guns scraped awkwardly against his windshield. "Good bot," Whirl told him. You want a treat?" 

Whirl laughed as Swerve's fuel cap popped open at the suggestion. "You do, don't you? Poor thing, it's like I never fuel you..." Whirl pulled out a tiny glowing cube of sweetened energon and the tenor of Swerve's engine changed, from eagerness to quiet anticipation, as if to say, /I am a good bot, yes I am!/ 

Whirl's optic arched in pleasure and he gave Swerve a long pet across his back. "Just one, I can't ruin your dinner..." Whirl traced the tiny cube over the rim of Swerve's fuel intake, then gently ripped it inside. 

Swerve's engine purred. Whirl knew too well that there was no taste in energon taken this way, but Swerve's pleasure in his treats was genuine enough to make him doubt. "There, that's better, right? Now some playtime before dinner...?" 

Swerve closed his fuel cap again and drove up half onto Whirl again in affection, then revved suddenly against him, nearly flipping his vehicle mode over and covering Whirl with tire marks. Whirl grabbed him in both arms. "Silly bot! I'm a copter not a racetrack...though maybe with a few modifications...hmm, next time maybe?" 

Whirl realized Swerve was trembling quietly in Whirl's arms - too quietly. His optic narrowed in concern and he pinged Swerve's safety comm channel. 

Swerve pinged back green, quickly - too quickly, really, to be okay, but not enough for Whirl to risk pulling him out of the scene abruptly. He cradled the bot close instead, trying to be warm and reassuring. "You're a good bot, my little car, such a good bot, you can drive all over me all you want, I don't mind..." Swerve's engine slowly resumed a louder and healthier rhythm, but he stayed in Whirl's arms, letting the copter pet and comfort his little car. 

"Better?" Whirl asked after few minutes, giving his pet car an affectionate nuzzle. 

Swerve pinged green again and revved against Whirl's chassis reassuringly. "'M glad. How about a bit of a clean and polish and then I'll get you all fueled up?" 

Swerve pushed himself out of Whirl's arms, executed a tight 180, and popped his little trunk, revealing a nearly packed set of brushes and clothes that Whirl used on him. Once Whirl had pulled them out, he made a few playful circuits of the habsuite, giving Whirl time to set up without even his pet watching. 

He parked, finally, in their little grooming area and gave a small impatient rev to signal he was ready and waiting. "All right, pet, I'm coming...!" Whirl applied polish carefully to a rag and started working on Swerve's roof, slow and careful. Occasionally his pinchers stumbled, but Swerve just kept on purring, happily non-verbal, with an occasional beep of inquiry if Whirl paused. "Good pet," Whirl told him often. "Such a cute little car. You're gonna reflect the light like a star when I'm done with you. Even the Captain will be jealous! Especially the Captain. No one will ever miss you again!" 

It couldn't last forever, though. Eventually, around the third time Whirl tried to get the polish just right, Swerve started to fidget back and forth on his wheels and eventually, pointedly, popped open his fuel cap against Whirl's belly. 

Whirl looked down and giggled. "Hungry, pet?" 

Swerve replied with a plaintive little engine whine, as though he could barely run. 

"Of course, of course, a car can't live on polish alone! - No, you stay there, I'll get you your fuel!" Whirl scrambled to his feet and rushed over to the side of the habsuite to pick up and carry over an Earth-style gas station fuel dispenser. "Which kind do you want? 'Unleaded', 'Super' - ah, of course, nothing but Premium for my beautiful little car." It didn't matter really - the original fuel tanks had been replaced long ago - but it was still satisfying to push the button for the most expensive fuel and then guide the nozzle into Swerve's intake valve. "Gonna fill you up with the expensive one," Whirl gloated, petting Swerve on the roof as the fuel started to flow. 

Swerve shuddered deep down as the fuel started to flow into him, and then settled low and quiet as the fuel approached full, as though weighted down by it. Still, his engine whined softly when the nozzle clicked off.

"You wanna be topped off? No problem, beautiful." Whirl squeezed down on the nozzle again, filling Swerve just a little bit more, until he was hot and trembling under his arm, and drops of fuel stated to leak around the nozzle. "That'll have to be enough for now, my pet." Whirl turned the fuel off, put the nozzle back and wiped the overflow gently off Swerve's side plating and fuel valve run. "Good bot. Good bot. Nap time?" Whirl asked, once he'd carefully screwed in the fuel cap for Swerve. 

Swerve answered with a slow sedate drive toward the recharge slab. 

"Aw, you know you're not supposed to get your tires on the recharge slab! I should put you in your garage for your nap."

Swerve answered this suggestion by determinedly driving up against the side of the slab, as if attempting to drive all the way up and into it. 

"...But you know I can't resist you. C'mon, let me give you a lift and we'll nap together!" Whirl scooped Swerve you into the car and plopped them both onto the slab, settling in with Swerve nestled on top of his cockpit. "Wanna good night story? Lemme tell you about the little car that could..." 

Swerve slipped into recharge, peacefully nestled into his car mode and Whirl's warmth and voice. Later, he would have to stand and talk and be a bot again, but for now, everything was just right.


End file.
